Page 55 of Christmas at the Ranch
“I’m glad you’re here.” Drew moved beside her. “I wanted to talk to you about the wedding.”
Samantha took a deep breath. She couldn’t stand there and be happy for Drew and Beatrix when her stomach was tied in knots. She needed some time alone.
“I’m sorry, I can’t right now.” She stuffed the bag of cereal in her pocket and strode to the door.
Drew studied her curiously.
“Are you all right? You’re very pale.”
Samantha gulped. She hadn’t meant to tell Drew about Roger.It made her sound vulnerable and insecure. But suddenly she couldn’t keep it to herself. She told him how Roger was following her on Instagram and drove all the way to Jackson Hole to see her. He’d asked her to meet him for a drink and she didn’t know what to do.
When she finished, Drew’s eyes darkened. His brow creased into a frown.
“He just expects you to pick up the way you were before?” he demanded.
“Not at all.” Samantha shook her head. “New Yorkers love to visit California in the winter,” she tried to joke. “After all, I can’t wear shorts and flip-flops to look at the Christmas decorations on Fifth Avenue in December.”
“Then you can wait until the summer and go out to the Hamptons.” Drew’s voice was tight. “After what he did to you, he doesn’t deserve to be in the same state, let alone sit with you at a swimming pool.” His tone turned softer. “You have to give yourself more credit. You’re an amazing woman, Samantha, if…” He stopped.
Samantha froze, waiting for him to continue.
A text lit up the phone in his pocket. He took it out and read it quickly.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he apologized. He seemed to shake himself. “We can talk more about this later if you like, and I did need your help with the wedding.”
Samantha nodded. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
It was only when Drew left, when she heard his boots crunching on the snow, that she realized she had forgotten to exhale.
She let out her breath and pulled the phone from her pocket. What had Drew been about to say and why had he stopped?
“Roger,” she texted. “I’m sorry, I can’t make drinks tonight.”
She stared at the phone, debating what else to say. It didn’t matter. Roger was the East Wind in the legend. No matter what she wrote, her words would be drowned out by what Roger told himself about their relationship.
She pressed Send and slipped the phone back in her pocket. Then she trudged across the driveway and went upstairs to take a bath.
Chapter Thirteen
Samantha sat at one end of the long dining room table listening to Audrey’s mother, Gladys, proclaim that Jane Austen was the greatest female writer of all time, and Samantha must see the latest adaption ofPride and Prejudice.
For once, Samantha was grateful to be seated beside Gladys. At least she was far away from Beatrix and Drew. Seeing them together reminded her of what she once shared with Roger.
She had checked her phone a dozen times to see if Roger responded to her text. She half expected him to reply that it was just one drink; he drove hours to see her. But her phone remained silent. Roger hadn’t bothered to reply. She knew then that she had made the right decision.
It would have been nice to tell Arthur she had a headache and eat a sandwich in her room. But then she read Charlie’s latest e-mail about Melody Minnow’s new partnership with a juice company. Samantha had to make an appearance at dinner. She searched her closet for the perfect outfit—a pair of wool pants and the fisherman’s sweater Emily said was all the rage this winter—and went downstairs to join the other guests.
Now, she had to admire Beatrix. Beatrix’s blond hair was slicked back and diamond earrings glittered in her ears. Instead of discussing sorbet cups and honeymoon destinations, Beatrix acted as if she was already the hostess. She chatted with the reviewer fromThe New York Timesabout the latest bestsellers, and praised the buyer for the bookstore chain on his most recent book club selection.
Drew was strangely quiet during dinner. She wondered again what he had been going to say to her at the barn. It didn’t matter. In four days, she’d be back in Brooklyn. She’d confide everything to Socks while Socks sat patiently, gnawing a peanut-butter-flavored bone. Soon Jackson Hole would become a Christmas memory, and Samantha and Socks would return to the routine of morning pee walks and monthly trips to Dog Wash N’ Go to get Socks’s nails clipped and his teeth brushed.
Arthur stood up and tapped his glass. He looked tan and fit in a dark blazer and turtleneck.
“I hope everyone is enjoying themselves,” he began. “I’m going to go home a few pounds lighter and with excellent calf muscles. There’s no sport like skiing for a tremendous workout.”
A few people groaned in agreement. Arthur waited a moment to continue.
“Most cities have restaurants that are so iconic, tourists must experience them before they leave. In New York it’s the Rainbow Room and the Russian Tea Room and, my favorite, Lombardi’s on the Lower East Side. Lombardi’s opened in 1905 and it still makes the best meatball pizza in Manhattan. In Jackson Hole, that place is Mangy Moose. Not only do they serve the tastiest baby back ribs, it’s the true western experience. Every Thursday night, they host a mechanical-bull-riding contest.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve signed everyone up. The car leaves in half an hour.”
